Grace watches him as he talks, brow furrowed in quiet confusion. She hasn't been by the park today, and it hadn't come to her attention that anything was going on at all, let alone something that might bother him. As he speaks, though, it dawns on her what it is he means.
She hardly knows a thing about that night. Most of it, for her, was spent on the run in one way or another. It was only the next day that she knew much of anything about it at all, and all she really cared to hear was whether he was safe and where she could find him. Everything else was secondary at best, most of it learned after her arrival here, and even then very little. Reaching across his chest, she drapes an arm over him, hand at his shoulder.
It can't have been easy, coming across something to remind him of that without warning. She just doesn't know how to respond to that, what questions might upset him further or even offend him or be entirely off course. It isn't as if she has any familiarity with that sort of thing, except in a second-hand story kind of way, and not enough to be much of a help to him now. That hurts almost as much as seeing him upset in this way, slow and cool and careful, a disguise for the way he might come to pieces or blow up otherwise. She's sure that's what it is, that or shock, if only because those are both what it would mean in her.
no subject
She hardly knows a thing about that night. Most of it, for her, was spent on the run in one way or another. It was only the next day that she knew much of anything about it at all, and all she really cared to hear was whether he was safe and where she could find him. Everything else was secondary at best, most of it learned after her arrival here, and even then very little. Reaching across his chest, she drapes an arm over him, hand at his shoulder.
It can't have been easy, coming across something to remind him of that without warning. She just doesn't know how to respond to that, what questions might upset him further or even offend him or be entirely off course. It isn't as if she has any familiarity with that sort of thing, except in a second-hand story kind of way, and not enough to be much of a help to him now. That hurts almost as much as seeing him upset in this way, slow and cool and careful, a disguise for the way he might come to pieces or blow up otherwise. She's sure that's what it is, that or shock, if only because those are both what it would mean in her.
"Are you... Is there anything I can do?"